Sam could hear the guard’s footsteps coming down the corridor. It was time. Sam
was innocent of his crime, no doubt, but he still had to pay another man’s price. The
footsteps grew louder. Quieter, faster ones followed.
A guard in a beige uniform appeared before Sam’s cell. Behind him was a
chaplain in a black suit and tie holding a Bible against his hip.
“Well, Mr. Johnson, it’s time,” The guard said as he unlocked Sam’s cell.
“Time?” Sam asked surprisingly, “Time? Where is my final meal?
You can’t execute me without going through all that legal crap that you
guys blab on about day and night!”
The guard was clearly appalled at the aggressive nature of Sam’s
attitude, “You didn’t request a final meal.”
The guard was right; Sam didn’t request a final meal. Sad way to
feel on your last day. Especially if you were innocent...
“Would you like to speak to the chaplain?” the guard asked.
Sam hesitated for a moment. He thought speaking to the chaplain
“Um... sure,” he went ahead and answered
“Reverend Gardner... he’s all yours, man,” the guard told the chaplain.
The chaplain smiled at Sam and said, “Excellent! Right this way.”
That smile. It disgusted Sam with a passion. Such simulated optimism
was enough to make him sick. As the guard slapped the handcuffs on Sam, the
chaplain motioned Sam to follow him down the long, run down, blank corridor,
which Sam called home for so many years.
The walk to the “Last Chance of Salvation” room seemed like forever to
Sam. As he and the chaplain drew nearer to the room, strangely, Sam did not feel
a sense of “impending death.” Arriving at the room, the chaplain looked backed at
Sam with a welcoming smile.
“Here we are,” the chaplain said.
Sam and the chaplain entered the dark “Last Chance of Salvation” room.
It was blank like the rest of the facility except for a Crucifix on the table in the
middle of the room. It gave Sam the creeps. The mostly dark room made the
walls look like they had smiling faces. It mocked Sam’s upcoming execution.
They both sat down at the table. The chaplain sat his Bible on the table
and inched the Crucifix closer to him. The chaplain opened his mouth as if
something to say, but stopped and started flipping through his Bible.
He stopped and asked, “Do you know the Lord as your personal
“I can’t remember and I don’t really care,” Sam calmly replied.
The chaplain looked down at his Bible and said, “Pity, pity.
You have a long road ahead of you. So do you want to have salvation
before you die?
“No,” Sam said boldly.
What did the chaplain mean by “long road ahead of you?” It didn’t
make sense. Sam was about do die anyway, so it did not matter at all to him.
“I feel you have long road ahead of you as I said earlier. Since there
is no other thing I can do for you, take this,” The chaplain said and handed Sam a folded up, pink sticky note.
“Do not open it. It is for the executer. Think of it as a posthumous message to give to him. Go ahead, put it in your pocket,” the chaplain continued.
Sam put the sticky note in his only jumpsuit pocket. They got up out of the “Last
Chance of Salvation” room. As they walked out, Sam could see the guard. It was getting
closer to the time. Did Sam feel any anxiety? None.
The chaplain looked at Sam with that much to happy smile and said, “ It was nice knowing you, um........ Sam. May God have mercy on your soul.”
The chaplain nodded at the guard.
“Right this way,” the guard commanded Sam.
The much to creepy corridor was moving in front of Sam’s eyes as he followed the guard to the lethal injection chamber. Sam wanted to open up the sticky note badly, but the guard would probably stop him anyway. Finally, they were at the lethal injection
chamber. The room had green walls and a sterile, checkered floor and white ceiling. To toward the rightward wall was the injection bed.
Why were there straps on the bed? Sam could not help but wonder if that was because someone had tried to escape before. Even if someone did escape after being
injected they would die and fall running through that almost evil corridor. Sam was once
again going to be handed over to another person like some kind of slave.
“Well, Dr. Williams, he’s all yours, man,” The guard said once again just as with
The guard shook the doctor’s hand and the doctor said, “Thank you. Here comes another one.”
Here comes another one? Was Sam just another animal being put down in the pound? Sam was innocent, but no one believed him. Now he was dying for a legal mistake. Also, just because of a simple delusion Sam had...
The doctor looked at his clipboard and said, “Okay Mr. Samuel Johnson, I’m going to need you to lay down on that bed over there.”
Sam was walking over to the bed. Wasn’t someone supposed to be pushing Sam to the bed? They were much to trusting of him not to any “funny stuff.” Any thought of running away were gone now. He laid down on the bed willingly. The doctor came over
to the bed and started to strap Sam down.
The doctor smiled, another mocking smile, and said, “Don’t worry. It’s just a safety precaution. We can’t have you convulsing and fall off the bed can we? Oh and by the way, I don’t suspect you to try to run away. That reminds me. Did the Reverend Gardner give you a message to give to me?”
Sam suddenly thought of the pink sticky note the chaplain had given him. Sam was glad he had not opened it.
“I have a sticky note in my pocket , but I can’t get it being strapped down and all,” he answered.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get it,” the doctor said and reached over into Sam’s pocket.
Sam could smell heavy cologne on the doctor’s body. The smell was so sickening that Sam nearly vomited. Instead, he gagged.
The doctor got the pink sticky note and asked, “Are you alright?”
“Oh,” Sam was surprised, “I’m fine. Just nervous. That’s all.”
“Don’t worry. It is completely painless.”
Don’t worry. Don’t worry. The doctor’s shot at relieving Sam bitter sweetened him. The doctor, like the chaplain, was too overly friendly at a time like this. Sam believed he probably like the guard the most. At least the guard wasn’t friendly.
The doctor opened up the sticky note and read it then said, “Really? I will be right back.”
All of the sudden, the doctor stopped. He turned around and asked, “You didn’t read it, did you?”
“Of course not!” Sam said with slight anger.
“Good. Once again, I will be right back.” the doctor replied.
The doctor walked into a side room. He came back with some vials of yellowish- green liquid. The doctor went to the injection machine and exchanged the vials already in the machine with the new ones. He then stuck a needle in Sam’s left arm.
“Why did you exchange the liquid when you read the sticky note?” Sam asked angrily.
“That’s my business! By the way, don’t worry,” the doctor responded to Sam.
The doctor looked at his watch and said, “It’s about time. Any last words?”
Sam, delighted at this opportunity, answered, “Yeah. I’m innocent!”
The doctor positioned himself near the on switch. It was time for Sam to
die. All of his pleas of innocence were worthless. He was accused for his radical belief...
“Alright,” the doctor announced, “fluid injected in 5...4...3...2...1... inject!”
Sam felt a surge of drowsiness run through him. The world was slowly slipping
away. The world around Sam was getting blurry and distorted. A freezing cold came from the inside of his body as he dove into unconsciousness.
© Copyright 2017 Dillon Gay. All rights reserved.
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